


Spending Valentine's Day Solo

by jyn-z-solo (jynzandtonic)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Banter, Ben Solo is a Baby in the Streets and a Freak in the Sheets, Ben is Seeing Red, Co-workers, Creampie, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Food Porn, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Friends to Lovers, Homemade pasta really isn't that hard to make but DAYUM it impresses!, Just because they’re idiot space virgins doesn’t mean they have bad sex OKAY?, M/M, Medium Burn TBH, Mentions of Social Drinking/Alcohol Consumption, Minor Leia Organa/Han Solo, Minor Phasma/Kaydel, Minor Poe Dameron/Finn, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pining, Reylo - Freeform, Sexual Tension, Shy Ben Solo, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Smut, Terminal Amounts of Fluff, These Two Idiots Share One (1) Braincell, They're not shy anymore, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, also Han sucks at painting lolz, but you're gonna have to wait for the next chapter for that oops, it will be resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22712359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynzandtonic/pseuds/jyn-z-solo
Summary: She places his scent—woodsy and warm, like sandalwood and ginger—before she recognizes the large, gloved hand outreached to steady her or the sleeves of his black wool coat.“Rey,” he blurts out—is the pink on his cheeks from the chill outside, or is he blushing?“Ben! Hi!” She’s trying desperately to sound nonchalant, but at the rate her eyebrows continue to rise, they may end up past her hairline.“Wha… What are you doing here?” he asks, running a hand through his hair.Rey opens and closes her mouth like a goldfish. Ben looks nervous.Oh god, he’s probably mortified of me—what was I thinking doing this?She’s still just standing there, so she sprints with the first lame excuse that comes to mind.RFFA PROMPT: Rey has the hots for her coworker, Ben, and decides to send him a Valentine's Day card. While at the shop choosing one, she bumps into him. Too embarrassed to confess it’s for him, she lies about the intended recipient. Ben is in love with Rey and gutted the card is for someone else!Get yer party pants on; fluffy courting rituals, mutual pining, and sexual tension abound!
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 50
Kudos: 292
Collections: For one is both and both are one in love: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ReyloBrit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReyloBrit/gifts), [politicalmamaduck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalmamaduck/gifts).



> I came across several of @ReyloBrit's irresistible prompts and thought: _i can have a little. as a treat._ ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ
> 
> Miz Brit, it has taken all the restraint my body contains to withhold Kudos as I binge your fics so as to not give away my identity.
> 
> This saccharine heap of utter Valentine's Day nonsense also goes out to @politicalmamaduck--one of the benevolent overlords on the RFFA mod panel, great writer, and all-around lovely internet person. A token upon your shrine, sovereign!
> 
> AAIGHT LEGGOOO; ENJOY PT. 1 OF THE TREAT FIC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon is now officially off!  
> Hi, frands! I’m Jyn—but you can call me **Z** for short. 😸  
> Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ from the bottom of my smut-blackened heart to all of you who have read, commented, or left kudos on this ridiculousness. It is both genuinely astonishing and extremely flattering. 😭💕  
> Give me a holler on [tumblr @jyn-z-solo](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jyn-z-solo); I’d love to be pals!

He hates these things. He absolutely fucking hates them. Sure, Ben enjoys many of his coworkers—even considers a few of them good friends—but these company-wide events share none of the comfortability of, say, grabbing pints with Dameron and Phasma after a project wraps. 

Yet every year— _every year_ —Leia insists on throwing this office Christmas party, and that her son’s attendance— _nepotism be damned_ —is mandatory. His rebuttals are always the same: he reminds her that _Mom, the Organa-Solos are Jewish_ , that he doesn’t like the crowds, that _all the fanfare just seems kind of preposterous, doesn’t it?_ , and… Here he is at the party, tugging at his suit collar, wondering how his mother developed such a strange affinity for Santa kitsch and tacky carols. But for all her quirks and stubbornness, he has to admit he’d do anything for the little spitfire of a woman. And hey—after a couple Old Fashioneds, Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” _does_ seem a little catchy. Maybe.

He leans against the doorframe of the copy room, looking out over the amoeba of people mingling and chatting. He’d prefer to retreat even further, locking the door against the throngs of the greater office space, but that’d surely earn him a scolding from Leia. The party is even bigger this year now that his department, First Order Coding, has now officially merged with Resistance Engineering—all the more reason for his nerves. It’s not just the crowd size, no, and not that collaboration with them hadn’t been more than successful over the past six months… but that _one particular Resistance engineer_ is also in attendance tonight, and Ben keeps hearing the chime of her laughter float over to the corner where he’s tucked away.

_Rey_. She’d shown up like a summer rainstorm last June, bringing energy and brilliance with her wherever she went. The mere thought of her presence at work was rejuvenating; he hadn’t been late or left early a single day since she’d arrived. He found her _mesmerising_ : her analytical mind, her sarcasm, how she’d casually sit on his desk to check in on his software development, the way she’d shift the cross of her legs underneath her black pencil skirts...

“Ben Solo, are you _hiding_ back here?” 

As if summoned by his thoughts, he looks up from his drink to see Rey sidling over with her nose scrunched up in amusement and a half-drained flute of champagne in hand. He can’t help the way his eyes pass over her body; her slim figure is draped in rich, red satin tied elegantly at the waist with her long, creamy thighs exposed by the garment’s short hemline. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks when she reaches him.

“Hiding? From, the, uh—” he gestures toward the festivities, “—big, loud social gathering? No, no. Definitely not. I’m a social butterfly, I’ll have you know.” Ben takes an exaggerated sip from his cocktail and flutters his eyelashes at her over the rim of the glass.

She laughs, that musical sound cascading over him again, and he feels as if his heart will burst. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she says, shaking her head, but her smile is only spreading.

He smiles right back and gives an imploring look. “Please don’t blow my cover?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. But you are the only person in here taller than the Christmas tree. There’s not much cover to be blown.”

Ben is lost in the charming lilt of her accent and noticing the heels she’s wearing lift her closer to his eye level and _did she just say blown_? _God, what the hell is wrong with you, Solo—_

“Oh,” she says softly, her big hazel eyes fixed on the top of the doorframe they’re standing in. “Mistletoe.”

Ben looks up to see the little green and white sprig dangling between them. She rocks on to her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek as he’s turning his head to look at her and Rey’s soft, red lips catch the corner of his mouth. The tips of his ears turn pink.

Rey blushes. “Ah, tradition requires it. I’m… just following the rules.” But her hand is still on his chest, and Ben wonders if she can feel his heart hammering.

“MM _ME NEXT_!”

A very inebriated Poe Dameron shoulder-shimmies up to the pair, and Rey drops her hand from Ben’s chest to swat him with it. Ben _usually_ loves Poe’s bullshit and Rey is giggling, but in that moment, something strange and possessive growls inside Ben’s head. He decides finishing the rest of his cocktail is a much better choice than knocking the mezcal out of his friend.

“Sssunshine! So-lo!” Poe addresses them all-too-lovingly. “Wowww, Ssolo, you’ff gotta be the luckiessst guy athuh wholee pardy!” He moves toward Ben with hands outstretched making kissy faces, and Ben—still draining his Old Fashioned—just holds an arm out to halt Poe’s approach. Poe leans into it like a drunken flying buttress, grinning. “Buttttt I called next, Solo.”

Ben lowers his empty rocks glass, rolls his eyes, and looks to Rey. “Still think _I’m_ ridiculous?”

“You’ve been absolved of your title,” she says with a flourish of her hand.

“Sunshine, you look _byyyooooootiful_ tuh-nighh,” Poe chimes in helpfully. “D’yyyoutwo wanna get suh more drinks?”

“You, _Commander Dameron_ , seem to have bravely and single-handedly defeated the open bar already,” Ben says, pulling Poe’s arm around his shoulders, “and I bet there is a certain calico cat at home who would be very excited for some drunk cuddles. Hmm?”

“ _Beebeeee-eeeeight_!” Poe slurs gleefully.

Ben looks from Poe to Rey. “I’m gonna split a Lyft with this guy to make sure he gets back to his place okay. It’d be a real shame if he ended up pantsless sleeping on the dog beds in Target. Again.”

“Oooooh, yeah. Good call.” she cringes. “And Beebee is probably worried sick… You’re a good friend, Ben,” she adds quietly.

“Anything for this ham,” Ben nods to Poe, now snoozing with his head on Ben’s shoulder. “And Rey—” he pauses to muster up the courage, “—you do look beautiful tonight.”

The dimples he loves so much pop on her cheeks as she smiles. 

“Happy Hanukkah, Ben.”

“Merry Christmas, Rey.”

As Ben helps Poe toward the exit, he thinks his mom might not be so far off about these parties after all.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Christmas, Hanukkah, and New Year’s come and go, and eventually, Poe’s hangover wears off, too. The office returns to relative normalcy as the staff busies themselves with first-quarter designs.

Once a week, Rey arrives in the morning with Finn and Poe, the three of them gabbing and giggling, clutching steaming drinks from the coffee shop down the street. When she passes Ben’s desk, bundled up in scarves with cheeks still reddened from the cold, she slides him a travel mug full of something piping hot and delicious—usually a double americano with a swirl of honey and pinch of cinnamon.

She always brings reusable mugs to fill up instead of _wasting all the resources for stupid disposables!_ (Ben loves listening to her when she’s fired up about something), so the second mug _has_ to mean she’s thinking of him ahead of time, right? She wouldn’t just have two on her... would she? 

Regardless, Ben stares at where _Rey Niima_ and a phone number are scrawled in a tiny, messy script near the bottom of the mug to signify its ownership, and wills himself not to write the digits down. _Don’t be a creep, Solo. It’s just a coffee. She’s just a nice girl from the office._ Still, his tongue always works in his mouth at the flavor of the honey, wondering if she’d taste even sweeter.

When he’s done with the coffee, he carefully washes and dries the mug, returns to his desk, and pulls a sticky note from his pad. His large fingers are surprisingly precise in folding a miniature origami creature for her each time, and Phasma, his deskmate, watches in amusement. Then, he drops the mug, the origami, and a bit of whatever snack he’d packed that day back at Rey’s desk—lingering just long enough to see her delight at his offerings and exchange a nod with Finn, who sits across from her, but not long enough for either of them to catch his blush. This is their ritual.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Ben is hunched over, intensely focused on creasing the trunk of a tiny origami elephant that will soon join Rey’s menagerie. The miniature fox, rabbit, crane, koi, and mouse he’s already folded for her are perched among the collection of little ferns and succulents that crowd her desk with splashes of green, which he tries not to smile at whenever he walks past on the way to the break room.

Phasma sighs deeply from her side of the desk, and Ben hears the wheels of her chair rolling toward him.

“Ben, darling,” she says crisply, smoothing the collar of her black velvet blazer.

He doesn’t look up from his folding. “Yes, dear?” 

“ _Ben_.”

“ _Gwen.”_

He’s still fixated on the elephant when something small and purple hits him squarely between the eyes.

“What the hell, Phas,” he sputters out, finally looking up. 

She raises a brow in challenge, her piercing blue gaze no longer obstructed by their back-to-back computer monitors.

Ben picks up the teeny purple projectile and realizes it’s a candy with ‘ _WINK WINK’_ printed on it—Gwendoline had flicked a conversation heart at him.

“So. Are you just going to give her another little, um—” she juts her chin in the direction of his origami, “—paper critter? Or are you actually going to do something for her today?”

He frowns. He’s missed something. “Today?” he asks hesitantly.

“ _Christ,_ Ben, you are _such_ an oaf,” Phas replies, clearly exasperated. “A very lovable oaf, and you really are quite good at making your little animals, but— _come on._ It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh,” Ben says simply. “Huh. Are you and Kaydel doing anything fun tonight?”

“Ah, _yes._ We are. I booked a table for us at the new Michelin-star restaurant about three months ago.”

“Ooh. Lucky gal.”

“Happy wife, happy life—” quips Phas, “but you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh, uh...” Ben says, and as he finally processes what Gwen had said about Valentine’s Day and little paper critters—“ _OH_.” His eyes go wide. “Shit. No, I haven’t… I didn’t…”

Phasma just stares incredulously. “Well am I correct in the observation that you’re both still smitten with each other?”

“Wait, ‘smitten with _each other?_ ’”

“Loveable oaf,” she rolls her eyes. “...Wait, don’t tell me Dameron has already swooped in on her like a rum-drunk peacock. I do see them together a lot.”

“No, I don’t think he’d be _interested_ , but…”

Maybe he was wrong; maybe he hadn’t really _understood_ Poe the way he thought he did, and he certainly didn’t feel perceptive when it came to Rey’s possible interest. 

But what he valued most about Gwen’s friendship were her honesty and eagle-eyed perceptivity—so if she thought things looked mutual, he trusted her. And Rey _did_ bring him a coffee _today_ , on Valentine’s Day. He felt his stomach churn with a mixture of nerves and something that felt a little like… hope. He smiles. With teeth.

“I’ve gotta run,” he says, fumbling for his topcoat and wallet. “Gotta go get a card. Flowers.”

“Good lad,” Phasma replies, rolling back behind her monitor. “Remember to pick something up for your Mum, too.”

“Phas, what would I do without you?”

“I shiver at the thought,” she deadpans.

Seeing that Rey’s desk is empty, Ben stops to drop off her coffee mug and balance the origami elephant on top of a particularly wacky mini cactus as he leaves the office. He heads out into the cold with his coat collar flipped up and a bit of bounce in his step.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Rey rotates what she’s certain is the nineteenth rack of cards at the Kanata Specialty Paper Store looking for one that doesn’t make her feel like a bloody idiot. It’d taken all morning to get her guts up to come at all—urged on by Poe while they waited in line at the coffee shop and Finn’s lunch break pep talk—then she’d still have to go through with signing and sending the damn thing once she’d chosen it.

She blows out a breath through slightly-parted lips to dissipate the nerves and picks up a simple-looking white card. Upon inspection, it shows a Venn diagram on the front. One circle is labeled ‘Y _OU,_ ’ the other is labeled ‘ _ME_ ,’ and the red overlap in the center says ‘ _SEXY TIME._ ’ She claps a hand over her face and groans. _Well, it’s not technically inaccurate, but also not exactly the messaging I’m shooting for…_ It goes back in the rack and she pulls up another—an embellished gold script on red cardstock reads, ‘ _To The Father of My Child’_ —only to immediately shove it down. _NOnononono not the card no thank you_. 

A quick time-check confirms that she ought to be back at the office in ten. She’s been through far too many options, so she makes a call: the next card she picks up is _it_ —she gets one mulligan if it’s something too creepy or spouse-y for a first Valentine’s Day. 

Closing her eyes, she spins the rack in front of her, then jabs her index finger out to stop it on a selection like the _Wheel of Fortune_. She pulls it out of the slot, reads the front, and… _Heheheheheh_. 

Yeah. This one will work.

She makes her way to the register and a sweet, older lady wearing funky coke-bottle glasses rings her up. Brightly-colored bangles clink together on the woman’s wrists as she hands Rey the receipt. “It’s going to go great, dearie. Don’t be nervous!” she says and gives her a knowing wink.

Rey cocks her head to the side and smiles. “Thanks. I needed that.” 

Heading toward the door in a bit of a rush, she skirts around a card rack and collides with a _towering_ figure.

She squeaks and inhales sharply at the surprise, and she places his scent—woodsy and warm, like sandalwood and ginger—before she recognizes the large, gloved hand outreached to steady her by the arm or his black wool coat. When she and Ben lock eyes, she’s not sure which one of them looks more shocked. 

“Rey,” he blurts out— _is the pink on his cheeks from the chill outside, or is he blushing?_

“Ben! Hi!”

She’s trying desperately to sound nonchalant, but at the rate her eyebrows continue to rise, they may end up past her hairline.

“Wha… What are you doing here?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. 

Rey opens and closes her mouth like a goldfish. _Blub. Blub. Blub._

Ben looks nervous. He definitely looks nervous. _Oh god, he’s probably mortified of me—what was I thinking doing this?!_ She’s still just standing there and she sprints with the first lame excuse that comes to mind.

“UhhhhhIwasjuststoppingbytogetacard… for… Finn!” she babbles.

_Yeeaaah. Phew. Nice save there, Niima._ She stands there for a moment, blinking at him. 

Something resembling—well, shit— _hurt_ crosses Ben’s face, but it’s gone in a flash.

“What are _you_ doing here?” she asks, thinking herself very sneaky the way she tucks her purchase behind her back.

“Oh,” he says softly—he looks a bit worn out now, really, “just grabbing a card for… my mom.”

“Awh,” she replies, rubbing his upper arm before she can catch herself. Rey’s always been so fond of Leia, and thinking of Ben sending her a Valentine makes her melt a bit. “That’s really sweet of you. I bet you’re going to make her whole day.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” Ben gives a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks for the coffee, by the way.”

“My pleasure,” Rey nods. “I’ve gotta run—I’ll see you back at the office.”

She stares at the pavement as she walks to work, feeling torn. By the way Ben first looked when he bumped into her, she was absolutely sure he’d enroll in the Witness Protection Program if she asked him out by way of a cheesy card… But when she’d covered up her embarrassment with the Finn fib, he looked so disappointed. Maybe he wasn’t mortified after all. She checked the time again—five till three in the afternoon. She still had at least two hours to make the call.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Ben is crushed. Ben is absolutely fucking crushed.

He’d quickly hidden the card with two prickly cartoon cacti hugging captioned ‘ _cact-u + cact-i = cact-us_ ’ behind his back when he bumped into Rey, but after she told him she’d been shopping for Finn, he decided to put it back on the shelf. He bought the card he’d picked for Leia and headed straight back to the office—the trip to the flower shop didn’t seem worth it anymore. 

When he gets back to his desk, Phasma’s seat is empty; she’d left early for her evening out with Kaydel. He finds her elegant, loopy cursive on a sticky note that reads: _‘I tried to fold you an armadillo, and ended up with this flat square. Don’t know where I went wrong. Just wanted to wish you luck, darling. xx, Gwen.’_

He stares at his computer screen, bleary-eyed. It’s half past three now, and if he’s going to keep it together and finish his code, he’s going to need another coffee. 

Ben takes a roundabout way to the break room, avoiding Rey’s desk entirely. He’s pretty sure the coffee machine at work brews ground-up old car tires instead of actual coffee beans, but at this point, it’ll do.

And, of course, _of course_ this would be his luck.

“Hey, man!” Finn says cheerily as he makes a beeline for the tray of cupcakes on the counter. “How ya doin’?”

“Oh, you know…” Ben fiddles with the basket filter on the machine and it starts to sputter. “Just getting to the point in the afternoon where nothing else is gonna happen without more caffeine.”

“I definitely feel that. So, uh, you got any big Valentine’s plans tonight?”

“No, no. Not unless you count a dram of whiskey maybe my left hand.”

Finn laughs out loud. “Hey, that’s not a bad night! But you never know, Solo,” he wiggles his eyebrows, “the night is young.”

Ben shouldn’t ask. He really shouldn’t. He won’t feel any better when he hears the answer, but he can’t help it. “What about you? Big plans tonight?”

Finn smiles down at the pair of heavily-sprinkled magenta cupcakes he’s selected, and says, “Yeah, yeah. Something really special. I wasn’t expecting it, but… damn.”

Ben feels as if his heart is no longer an occupant of his chest. But he forces a smile—Finn’s a good dude. Always kind.

“That’s awesome. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Finn beams. On his way out, he looks over his shoulder and says, “Seriously though—don’t block off your calendar for Lefty yet. You never know about those late-game Valentines.”

“Sure,” Ben chuffs, and pours himself a mug of shitty office coffee. No honey in this cup. Come to think of it, he might prefer that dram of whiskey in it instead.

Another hour passes, and the coding is still slow—the process only slightly ameliorated by the burning-tire coffee he’d choked down. He sees Phasma’s note again, and remembers the card for his mom. 

Navigating to his browser window, he pulls up the website for one of those Paint-and-Wine studios Leia likes so much and buys a gift certificate for two classes. She could always go with Amilyn if she can’t drag Han along, but Ben has his fingers crossed. 

The last time Han had accompanied her to a painting class, the portrait he brought home of the family’s Tibetan mastiff, Chewie, was so atrocious that it had Ben and Leia in tears. Amidst their laughter, Han had grumbled that _if they wanted him to paint somethin’ pretty, they wouldn’t have kept pourin’ him wine._

Ever the kind wife, Leia had it framed and hung up in their living room. Even Chewie seemed to find it funny—he’d sit in front of the painting, making warbly growls while Han would point a finger at the traitorous dog, muttering ‘ _Laugh it up, fuzzball!_ ’ 

Ah, shit. Just thinking about it is cheering Ben up a bit. He clicks _Print_ on the coupon and gets up for the copy room.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

  
  


The _Millennium Falcon YT-1300 Laser Printing System_ … It’s a beige brick the size of a mini-fridge, and Ben is entirely certain it’s older than he is. When it’s feeling ornery or missing an elusive part, the archaic office printer can take its sweet, sweet time... so it’s not atypical to find other people in the copy room waiting on the old bird.

But when Ben walks in the room, the people he sees next to the printer _do not_ look like they’re waiting on a print job. 

Finn has Poe pressed flush to the wall, both hands cupping his jaw while they kiss deeply. Poe has one hand twined in the fine locks at the crown of Finn’s head while the other squeezes his ass, and _is Finn wearing Poe’s leather jacket?!_

Poe sees Ben. Finn sees Poe seeing Ben. Finn turns and sees Ben.

Ben is suddenly aware of just how large and out of place he is _literally_ everywhere he goes, and—

“Ben! Hey. What’s up?” Poe chimes, far too casually.

The printer screeches and spits out a single page. Ben shrugs and points at it. Finn is wide-eyed.

Poe grabs the sheet from the tray, gives Finn a pat on the rear, and walks toward Ben. “Soooo. Do you think we could just… not mention this to anyone? Like, say, HR before Finn and I disclose?”

Ben shakes his head fervently. “I’d _never_ , I…” he stops mid explanation. He looks between the men, and simply raises his thumb and forefinger to his lips to mime zipping them shut and tossing away the key.

Poe hands him the printed gift certificate and grins. “Thanks, buddy. Happy Valentine’s Day!” He walks out the door as nonchalantly as ever.

Finn, starting to regain his composure, says to Ben, “Well I guess that kinda clues you in on the plans I was telling you about.”

Ben chuckles, then looks at Finn earnestly. “Look, I already know you will, but… take good care of him.”

“I will, Solo. And I’m gonna say it again: late-game Valentines.” He spins out of the room.

Ben walks back to his desk in a stupor, equal parts bewildered, amused, and downright happy for Poe. He writes a note in the card for his mother, slips the gift certificate inside, and seals it in the envelope—he’ll hop up a few floors to corporate and slip it under her office door. 

On the elevator ride back down to his floor, he’s mulling over what Finn kept bringing up— _late-game Valentines._ He checks the time. It’s a quarter till five. Pretty late on a Valentine for his mom, at least…

Then it hits him like a conversation heart between the eyes. 

Finn is Rey’s deskmate. They’re best friends. They talk all the time. Finn is spending Valentine’s Day with Poe. Ergo, Rey… _REY ISN’T SPENDING VALENTINE’S WITH FINN. AND FINN’S BEEN HINTING AT…_

He rushes the remaining distance to his desk, and finds a small, red envelope sitting smack-dab in the middle.

With shaky hands, he breaks the seal and pulls the card out. The front displays a heart-eyed cartoon slice of pizza giving finger-guns, and the caption reads ‘ _I wanna pizza dat ass_ ,’ and Ben giggles because he’s nervous and happy and _of course_ Rey would fucking pick this one. Inside, written in that scribbly handwriting he’s studied so intensely, is a note:

> _Roses are red_
> 
> _Violets are blue_
> 
> _I think your freckles are cute_
> 
> _And I’d love to get dinner with you_
> 
> _Be my Valentine?_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Rey_

  
She thinks his freckles are… she wants to get dinner?! He grabs his coat and sprints out of the office.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Rey’s leg is jiggling up and down like she’s working the pedal of a 19th-century sewing machine. She put the card on his desk. She put the fucking card on his desk.

She’d felt like a royal ass when Finn had delivered a cupcake from the break room, mentioning how down Ben seemed, and even more so when she spotted the teensy little elephant balanced on the prickly, potted _Opuntia microdasys_ in the corner of her desk.

Finally, she’d leaned as far back as her chair would allow—nearly falling out of the damn thing—to confirm Ben wasn’t at his desk, tip-toed over to deposit the card, and sprinted back. 

It was out of her hands now. Literally. She takes a breath, gives herself a little wiggle to get the jitters out, and plants both heels firmly on the ground—willing her traitor leg to stop shaking. 

She unfolds a prototype draft for the _Red 5_ project on her desk and pulls out a sharp pencil, just in hopes of looking busy when Ben comes back. Though Rey’s focus is initially geared toward outward appearances, her inquisitive mind soon takes over; before she realizes it, she’s engrossed in her notes and calculations. 

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Ben _knows_ it’s his fault for leaving it till the very last minute—he doesn’t expect to have prime pickings at five o’clock on the night of Valentine’s Day—but _really_? Not a _single_ bouquet left at either of the two nearest flower shops? He rounds the street corner, following the directions to a new shop he’s pulled up on his phone. 

The fuchsia neon sign above the entrance reads _‘Rose’s_ ,’ and Ben rolls his eyes; misplaced apostrophes are one of his pet peeves.

When the bell on the front door sounds, a petite woman with swoopy black bangs and bright eyes stands up from behind the counter. She’s wearing an olive green jumpsuit with a pair of trimming scissors and a mister bottle dangling from its utility belt. 

Ben sees the embroidered name patch near her right shoulder, and it all makes sense.

“You’re Rose.”

“Yup.” 

“Rose’s Roses,” he snorts.

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” she winks. 

“Please tell me you have some?”

“You’re just in luck. I’ve only got one dozen left. Is red okay?”

“ _Perfect_ ,” he sighs.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

_Shit_. Rey looks up from her draft, and the office is empty. _Oh, shit._ It’s ten minutes past five. Everyone had gone home for the weekend.

She’d gotten lost in her work; she hadn’t noticed if Ben ever returned. Regret fills the pit of her stomach. Perhaps he’d left early and she’d missed her chance—perhaps she was too late.

She gets up to check for the card at his desk, but when she reaches it, her feelings of regret curdle into rejection and shame.

The card is still there, yes, but it had been opened. He’d seen it—seen her note, too—and he’d left it. She can feel her eyes start to well up when her name startles her to attention.

“ _Rey—_ ” 

She whips around to find him there, chest heaving and wild-eyed. She starts to babble.

“Ben, I’m so sorry; I’m so _embarrassed_ —I’ve just had feelings for you for so long, and I thought we had this sort of _connection_ , and—”

“I feel it too,” he cuts her off. His voice is husky and his lips are parted, revealing the slightest flash of his lower teeth.

Only then does she notice the bouquet of red roses he’s holding at his side, and the way his whole body leans toward her in the slightest. She swallows with difficulty. His hands tremble, but his eyes are blazing.

“Rey, I’ve been falling for you since the day you set foot it this office, and I’ve been too much of a fucking coward to do anything about it.” He takes a step closer to her. “Turns out you beat me to the punch. But I don’t think anything has ever made me happier.” 

She stares up at him, eyes wide. She’s short-circuiting, she’s smiling, she’s—Ben hands her the roses. Velvety petals graze the tip of her nose as she lifts the bouquet to inhale, their sweet perfume tinged with the slightest bit of warm sandalwood...

“How about dinner tonight, Valentine?” Ben’s voice is low, honeyed, confident.

Rey grabs his nape and pulls his lips to hers.

His mouth is so full and soft, and Rey marvels at the way his hands nearly encase her ribcage where he grasps her waist. His fingertips dig gently into her side, pulling her body closer as her head tips back, melting under his kiss. One of his hands comes to cup her cheek; she opens wider for him. 

Their tongues meet gently and she presses her hips forward, seeking relief for the pressure that blossoms there in response. She gently sucks Ben’s lower lip between hers, and upon feeling him harden and twitch against her lower belly, she knows if she doesn’t get herself out of the office ASAP, she’s about to be liable for some _severely_ unprofessional behavior. 

With a small, regretful groan and a chaste press of her closed lips to his, she manages to pull away just the slightest bit.

“Yes to dinner. And absolutely yes to getting out of here.” She fans her face with her hand, trying to stave off the flush of arousal. Ben is beaming. “Where do you figure we can get a table?” she asks, the realization that they don’t have a reservation anywhere just now dawning on her.

“Come to my place tonight.”

Rey bites her lip involuntarily; Ben’s eyes darken and the corner of his mouth lifts just the slightest bit.

“Okay.” Rey’s voice is a breathy.

“I want to cook for you tonight. Just give me an hour to grab what I need and get started, then come and join me.”

“Can I bring something for dessert, then?”

Ben’s eyes roam over her body. He pauses and smiles. “Sure.”

She suppresses a grin when she sees him slide her card off his desk and into his coat pocket—not left behind after all. Ben tucks her under his arm as they head out for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, albeit insincerely, for any cavities procured in the process of reading this chapter. As promised—SMUT AHEAD! Updated tags and rating. Muah!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben makes Rey homemade pasta marinara.  
> Rey brings dessert.  
> The dessert goes mostly uneaten because Ben is under the impression Rey _is_ the dessert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, HERE'S THE SMUT, YA FILTHY ANIMALS! And more fluff, because you'll read fluff you'll like it goddamnit.
> 
> Also, because I am a moron and this is relevant:  
>   
> 
> 
> Thanks again to @ReyloBrit for the prompt; this has genuinely been too much fun. XO.

  
Rey eases out of the silk blouse and sharp charcoal trousers she’d worn to work, folding them carefully, then pads over to the small drawer where she keeps her lingerie.

The hour Ben had asked for was just enough time to stop by her apartment to freshen up before her errands. He’d kissed her soft and deep when they parted ways, and with the heat building in her belly, Rey was loathe to leave him for even a short while—but some part of the waiting and anticipation felt exhilarating.

She strips off her simple ivory bralette and panties, smiling to herself as she puts on a special set. She’d felt a little self-indulgent when she’d purchased it, but more importantly, she’d felt sexy—and being unabashedly honest, she might have fantasized a bit about Ben when doing so. She dons a cropped, black tank and high-waisted black jeans, then heads for the bathroom.

Growing up in and out of London group homes and fending for herself on the streets, Rey had never owned much as a child. She still didn’t, but now it was a function of choice. She much preferred intangibles: the small joy of tending to green, growing things; learning systems and immersing herself in challenging, complex problems; the company of friends who felt like the first family she’d ever had. She did have a few treasured belongings, though, like a bracelet Leia had given her and dried flowers from a time long past—things that were more talismen than _things_ at all.

Looking in the mirror, she smooths her hair back from her face, tilting each cheek in turn to glance at the three-bun style she’s fixed it in. She uncaps a sleek tube of Dior _Rouge 999._

This lipstick was one of those talismen; she’d bought it when she graduated with her engineering degree. Moving to the States for school had represented giving up on the search for parents she’d never known, releasing the possibility she might find an _answer,_ an explanation for all she’d been through.

For most of her life, she was scared of having anything that could be taken away from her—love included. 

Rey swipes the rich red onto her lips. Tonight, she feels brave.

............

A small, paper carton of strawberries is the first thing she places in her basket at the market. She pulls out her phone and types up a message as she meanders through the wine aisle.

> _Mister Solo._
> 
> _I have some questions for you._
> 
> **_Blast ‘em, Niima._ **
> 
> _Milk chocolate or dark chocolate?_
> 
> **_What kind of heathen do you think I am?_ **
> 
> _70% dark chocolate it is._
> 
> _Red or white wine?_
> 
> **_Rey._ **
> 
> **_I’m thrilled to have you texting me._ **
> 
> **_But I thought you had questions._ **
> 
> _Joke’s on you._
> 
> _I was bringing a red either way._
> 
> **_Mhm._ **
> 
> **_I trust you’ll pick something sexy._ **
> 
> **** _And I don’t want to be presumptuous..._
> 
> _Shall I pick up some condoms?_
> 
> _Just wanted to ask._
> 
> _I have an implant and my tests are clear._
> 
> **_I actually bought some earlier._ **
> 
> **_Just in case._ **
> 
> **_I’m tested and all clear, too._ **
> 
> **_I want whatever makes you feel comfortable._ **
> 
> **_Whatever that is, always._ **
> 
> _Thank you, Ben._
> 
> _:) Sorry I’m so awkward._
> 
> **_You’re not._ ** ****
> 
> **_I really appreciate you asking._ **
> 
> **_And I’m extremely flattered._ **
> 
> _:) :)_
> 
> **_Rey?_ **
> 
> _Yeah?_
> 
> **_Will you please come the fuck over already?_ **

Rey’s already scrambling out of the store with hurried words of thanks to the checking attendant.

............

Wine bottle tucked under her arm, Rey double-checks the number next to the door and taps out a friendly series of knocks. With the smells wafting into the hallway, she certainly _hopes_ this is Ben’s place.

“Come in—it’s unlocked.” 

She hears his all-too-familiar warm baritone, takes a deep breath, and turns the handle.

She finds him standing behind his kitchen island stirring something sizzling. Slim-fitting dark denim covers his long legs, and he wears a simple black tee that hugs his frame. The reading glasses Ben usually wears at the office are absent from his face, and the way he looks somehow strikes Rey as more… intimate. Here in his apartment, undone, alone with her.

“C’mere,” he nods. Rey suppresses a shiver at even the slight command. She walks over to join him in the kitchen, and he plants a soft kiss on her cheekbone. “You are _stunning_ ,” he says.

She beams and sets down her market plunder on the counter opposite him. 

“Ah! Barefoot and in the kitchen,” she says, giving him an up-down, “now _that’s_ the way I like my men.”

Ben chuckles and it’s like honey. He looks down and wiggles his toes. “I will make a great housewife, you know.” He swallows and blushes slightly. “Uh, _would_. I mean.”

Rey just catches his cheek in her hand and kisses him earnestly.

When she pulls her lips from his, she surveys his prep space. Finely minced garlic, onions, carrots and celery are sautéing in a pot with olive oil, and a generous pile of ribboned fresh basil sits heaped on a butcher-block cutting board. 

“Ben, what are you making? It smells amazing.”

“Currently, marinara.”

“From scratch?” Rey’s tone is incredulous.

Ben smiles bashfully. “Yeah. It’s my dad’s recipe. He makes it for Leia every Valentine’s Day.” He shrugs. “Probably cooking some right now, too.”

Rey thinks of the gruff, silver-haired pilot—far more comfortable at cruising altitude behind the controls of a cargo plane than down in any city—at home, tending to simmering pots on a hot stove. Han had the whole damn sky, but when it came down to it, nothing compared to how much he loved Leia and the dog… And Ben. Han still called him _‘kid.’_ The two share so many mannerisms: their scowls, their shrugs, their roguish grins. She wonders what Ben will look like when _his_ hair goes silver. 

The pop of a cork snaps Rey from her reverie, and she’s a little sheepish for how sentimental she feels, but Ben is turning to her and his eyes are soft and smiling and he’s handing her a long-stemmed glass of crimson liquid. She takes a sip of the wine, feeling its warmth spread through her chest and throat.

“I’m really happy,” she says, “that I’m here. Tonight. With you.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” He opens a large can of San Marzano plum tomatoes and pours it into a glass bowl. “So this is the secret ingredient. You have to use San Marzanos.” 

“What’s so special about that kind?”

“Mm. They’re sweeter.” His voice is low, and it does something to Rey. “And the tomatoes are the fun part.” She cocks an eyebrow.

He dips his hands into the bowl and begins squeezing the tomatoes in his fists to crush them, removing and discarding the skins. The muscles on his forearms ripple as he works, and _fuck, his hands are big—how has she not noticed his hands before?_ She shifts slightly so as to press her thighs together, searching for just a little friction as her cunt flutters. She takes a small sip of wine, trying to focus on the taste, and swallows.

After a quick rinse of his hands, he moves to pour the crushed tomatoes into the mirepoix. He sweeps in the fresh basil, and follows it with hearty pinches of coarse sea salt and cracked pepper. 

“Oh, and one other secret ingredient,” Ben says with a wink. He grabs the bottle of wine, and pours in a good bit more than what one might consider a _splash_.

While the sauce bubbles and simmers, he rolls out thin sheets of homemade pasta dough on the butcher block. Ben keeps assuring her it’s _‘really just flour and water!’_ but as he cuts even strips by hand and swirls them into little nests, Rey is flabbergasted. He’s _making_ her _pasta_. The bundles are deposited into lightly-salted boiling water, and he plucks them out just when they start to float. 

He dishes up two wide, shallow bowls of pasta, ladles on the marinara, and grates some fresh parm on top of each. They sit side-by-side at the kitchen island, and he watches intently as Rey twirls a bite onto her fork and places it in her mouth.

“Good?” he asks tentatively.

Rey, eyes closed, only moans in response. Ben beams.

............

“Now that I know you’re such a good cook, you know you’re stuck with me forever—right?” she giggles.

“Fine by me,” he’s laughing too, but his eyes sparkle and she can see a bit of pink at the tips of his ears.

She wrinkles her nose and grins, retrieving the dark chocolate and carton of strawberries she’d picked up for dessert. Treats in hand, she plops down on the couch next to Ben, tucking a leg underneath her to snuggle in close. He nuzzles his nose against her nape as she unwraps the bar of chocolate; she hums contentedly and breaks off a small square.

Rey lifts the piece of chocolate to him, and a small smile ghosts his lips before he opens them to accept her offering.

The tip of his tongue swipes across her fingers as he takes it into his mouth, and Rey inhales audibly. Ben’s eyes flit up to hers, and she can’t help the way her own lips part.

He picks a strawberry from the carton and drags it along her lower lip. His gaze is unbreaking as he watches her red lips wrap around the fruit to take a juicy bite. She feeds him one next, loving the flash of his teeth sinking into the berry. 

Rey opens her mouth for the piece of chocolate he places on the center of her tongue, and this time, her lips wrap around his index finger to suck gently as he pulls it away. Ben bites the inside of his cheek to stifle a groan. His eyes still half closed, she pushes another square of chocolate past his slightly parted lips. Before she can withdraw, his hand is at her wrist; he holds it firmly in his grasp as he licks the melted chocolate from her fingertips. Rey watches his tongue, his mouth, leaning closer and closer and— 

His lips really are too plump, too sweet; even more so with the lingering tang of the dark chocolate. She’s kissing him, slowly at first, but the more she tastes of his lips and his tongue the more she’s ravenous for it and now they’re both open-mouthed, needy, panting. His hands skate up and down her frame, pausing at her thighs, her hips, her shoulders, her neck.

She wants him. She wants this. She’s brave. She takes a few more sips from him then twines fingers in his dark waves, pulling their faces apart. 

Ben looks like a man robbed until she says, “I have one more treat for you. But you have to close your eyes, and keep them closed till I say.”

He closes his eyes obediently, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and Rey takes a moment to admire the splash of freckles and beauty marks across his face before she gets up from the couch.

............

“Okay. You can open.”

She stands in the doorway to his bedroom, just a few paces from where he sits on the couch.

She’s wearing nothing but her lingerie: a brilliant red balconette bra and thong in a lace-trimmed, sheer fabric. Delicate, embroidered roses cover her nipples, but no such embroidery graces the panties.

Her hands graze her upper thighs as he blinks his eyes open. And then he sees her.

Ben… Ben looks fucking _feral_.

His jaw clenches and unclenches as his eyes devour her body. The knuckles of the hand he’d been resting on the sofa arm are stark white from squeezing it, and his nostrils flare with each inhale.

Finally, he manages to grind out two words:

“Bed. _Now_.”

The wetness that’s been pooling between Rey's thighs all night seeps right through her panties.

She has to steady herself with a hand against the doorframe for a moment before she grins wickedly and obliges. 

Rey backs into his dimly-lit room until she bumps into the bed, her hands finding silky sheets when they stretch out behind her. She crawls back further, as Ben stalks in after her, setting the strawberries on his bedside table.

His eyes are dark with desire as he climbs over her, caging her in with his arms. She’s greedy for his lips and the feeling of his body—running her hands over his arms, his shoulders, his back—but as she scrabbles for the hem of his shirt, he’s pulling away from her mouth, grazing down the column of her throat with his teeth, nipping at her collarbone, sucking little wet kisses in the valley of her breasts and down her stomach.

Settling between her legs, he hooks his fingers in the lace of her waistband. His hands clench into fists and his eyelids flutter and— 

“ _Ben!_ ” The sheer fabric tears. 

“ _Shit_. Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry. He’s panting. “I’ll buy you more," he mouths into the crest of her hip bone. "As many as you want."

He kisses toward her midline and pauses—his pillowy lips rest just above her mound, eyes looking up to hers for permission.

She nods in response, head spinning as she watches him tuck his shoulders under her knees and toss away the remaining scrap of red lace covering her.

He strokes a broad thumb up her seam, spreading her ever so slightly—fire spreading through her body when he grazes the tip of her clit—then he presses gently above the hood to part her before him. Cool air tingles her exposed wetness before Ben's hot breath washes over her.

“ _You’re so fucking beautiful._ ”

It’s in this moment Rey realizes Ben’s not shy anymore—not with her. Not in the least. 

He kisses her, wide-mouthed, dragging his tongue heavily from her entrance to the top of her clit, his full lips following to caress the same path, coming together around the stiff bud before he begins again. Ben sucks each of her folds into his mouth, one after the other, pulling tenderly, then returns to her clit, swirling it with hot, broad strokes.

Rey’s head lolls back onto the pillow and she moans. One of her hands laces into his hair— _it’s so soft, what the fuck kind of conditioner does he use?_ —and the other rests lightly on the side of his face, feeling his cheeks hollow and the muscles in his face move as he licks and sucks her. 

Ben pauses to pet at her clit with his middle finger, then slides it down to her entrance and presses into her sweetly. Just the one finger is a tight fit, so he returns his attention to her clit—wrapping his lips around it to tug and suck—before he works a second finger in. 

He strokes at her front wall, his fingers finding the soft, spongy place inside that makes her gasp, _beckoning_ to her with their motion. She can’t help the way she pulls on his hair and fucks into his mouth, but Ben hums with pleasure each time she does. She can feel the familiar heat and tension coiling tightly at the base of her spine, and his name is on her lips as she starts to lose herself to it. Her cunt is fluttering around his fingers, and he laves at her until the tension snaps and she's _shaking_ with it, coming against his face.

Panting happily, she starts to relax and pull back from him. He doesn't move, nor does he let her shift away.

“We’re not done yet,” he purrs.

Curving his fingers up inside her, he nearly lifts her back to his mouth, latching on to her clit and sucking _hard_.

It’s too much; it’s far too much. She thinks she can’t, that she’s too sensitive, but she’s riding the wave and it’s cresting and her body feels molten. Rey’s thighs squeeze around Ben’s head as she bucks and spasms, the second orgasm white-hot and blinding. 

When she comes down she’s boneless, quivering, laughing—and Ben is grinning _his grin_. He scoops her up and cradles her to his chest, and his sandalwood smell is intoxicating. She kisses him and tastes herself on his mouth.

“Off. Please,” she tugs at his shirt, smiling, orgasm-drunk.

He moves away just enough to pull the soft cotton over his head, revealing broad planes of muscle and smooth, pale skin, and Rey cannot _believe_ he’s been hiding this under business casual all this time.

She snares a finger in one of his belt loops and wiggles it. “Please,” she repeats. He smiles and shucks his jeans off, too.

............

“ _Please, please, please, please..._ ”

She’s babbling now, desperate.

Her bra is tossed over his bedside lamp, casting a scarlett hue over half of Ben’s face. He hadn’t torn it like the panties, but he’d told her he wasn’t giving it back—that she could either stay forever or leave wearing nothing at all underneath her clothes. Her cunt clenched at how deliciously filthy the latter option sounded tumbling from his lips, but she whispered “ _first one,_ ” breathily as she looked up at him. In response, he took the entirety of one of her small breasts into his mouth.

The strawberries are still slightly chilled, and Rey’s nipples are pebbled and hard as he rolls the tip of a cool berry around one. He takes a bite from the fruit, then swirls the juicy edge around the center of each of Rey’s breasts as he chews. His mouth follows—sucking at her nipples, tonguing her breasts clean—and the heat of it on her skin has Rey writhing and begging.

He seems to be enjoying teasing her, lying propped up on his side next to her lithe form, watching the way her body responds to his touch. 

“Please, Ben—” She’s so hazy with arousal that she isn’t even sure what she’s asking for anymore, till she reaches over and grasps the stiff length of Ben’s cock through his underwear. He breaks away from the nipple he was sucking on with a _pop_ and he moans, dropping his forehead to her chest. She remembers, now.

“Off. _Now_.” She foregoes the _‘please,’_ this time, working at removing the only item of clothing left between them. Ben helps.

“Rey,” he meets her eyes, “would you like me to use a condom?”

“No. Please, _no_. I… I just want you.”

He shudders out a breath and he kisses her deeply, holding her face in his hands. 

She spreads her legs for him and she’s shiny with wetness; he drags the head of his cock through her folds to coat himself in it—up and down, up and down. Her clit, still wonderfully red and swollen from his attention, sends shivers up her spine each time he rubs over it.

He’s a big man, Ben—broad-shouldered, long-legged—and Rey already feels small underneath him. Proportionality aside, his cock seems _impossibly_ large as her slim fingers wrap only part way around his thick shaft, helping to line him up with her entrance. 

He pushes in, and... she’s taking him. She’s taking him deep, eyes unfocused with pleasure, willing her body to open further as her tight little cunt stretches to accommodate his width.

Ben’s eyes are pinched shut and his brows are furrowed and he’s pressing into her so, so slowly that his whole body trembles with the effort. They both gasp when he finally bumps against her clit, fully sheathed in her heat. He kisses her tenderly as she begins to gently rock her hips into his, the stimulation on her clit intensified with how fucking _full_ of him she feels. Rey squeezes her cunt around his cock, and he moans into her mouth, nearly collapsing. 

He looks down at her like she’s a fucking miracle, and she smiles. His hands come to her hair, undoing her three buns and letting her messy, chestnut waves fan out on the pillow behind her as he starts to drag his cock in and out of her. Rey’s smile only broadens as his pace quickens, his thrusts deepen, her little tits bouncing as she peppers his face with and neck and chest with kisses. 

Ben is snapping his hips into her now, losing himself to gentle scratch of her nails at the skin on his back, drinking in her soft little moans. As she sucks at his pulse point, he looks down to where their hips are joined, and that’s when he sees it...

He has to bite down on his lip to keep himself from coming.

“ _Fuck, sweetheart,_ ” he gasps, “I can see myself _inside_ you.”

A little confused, Rey looks between them... but it’s true.

In the slight dip between her hipbones, the outline of Ben’s cock is clearly visible. He pulls out to the head and pumps back in slowly; she watches the bulge of him move inside as he fucks all the way up into her tummy. 

Ben is looking unhinged again, his face nearly a snarl when he resumes his pace. He covers her lower belly with his hand, and _presses down._ That place—that soft, spongy place on Rey’s front wall that Ben had stroked with his fingers—it’s like he lit the fuse to a bomb there, and it’s about to go off. 

Every time Ben withdraws, Rey can feel the ridge of his cockhead dragging against it; every time he pushes himself in, the pressure there makes stars explode behind her eyes. He continues to thrust—harder, deeper. There’s a high-pitched ringing in her ears; her hands are numb and tingly. The bomb goes off, and she comes like a fucking freight train. She’s making garbled sounds, out of control, her body pitching under his—and he holds her through it, whispering her name like a prayer: _Rey. Rey. Rey. Rey._ The hot gush of his cum brings her back to her body, and she wants to keep every drop inside her.

She's still thrumming when he finally pulls out of her and they collapse into each other. Her hands are on his face, stroking his cheeks; he's holding her nape, pressing kisses to her forehead, telling her how incredible she is. She kisses his lips, just before sleep claims their exhausted bodies.

............

Ben wakes up with the girl in his arms.

The girl he’s thought about every single fucking day for the last eight months.

The girl his dad had met at one of Leia's work parties, then growled to him, “ _When ya buyin’ a ring for her, kid?_ ”

The girl with dimples, with a laugh like sunshine, with freckles on her shoulders that he’d never seen until this morning.

She hums softly, not entirely conscious yet, and burrows in closer to his chest. She hooks a knee up over his waist and he can feel how slick her core is—a mix of her own wetness and his cum, still dripping from deep inside her. The thought makes him squeeze her tighter, his heart filled with something overwhelming. 

At this, she wakes with a giggle, her sleepy eyes blinking open to find his.

“Ben,” she smiles, running her fingertips along his face. 

He loves it when she says his name. He absolutely fucking loves it.

............

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) The rough recipe included _is_ , in fact, a really excellent marinara. Just if you're wondering.  
> ADDENDUM: Someone asked for it, so I typed up the exact recipe for [Ben’s V-Day marinara](https://docs.google.com/document/d/17tECvN72-YuxHolj8bZZbTMp-WZ03mlZzGZlM4xhp0w) 🥰
> 
> 2) This has been my first foray into writing Reylo fanfic... and fiction writing in general! If you have any feedback for me, I'd love to hear it! XOXOXO <3
> 
> ..........................................
> 
> **Anon is now officially off!**  
>  Hi, frands! I’m Jyn—but you can call me **Z** for short. 😸  
> Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ from the bottom of my smut-blackened heart to all of you who have read, commented, or left kudos on this ridiculousness. It is both genuinely astonishing and extremely flattering 😭💕  
> Give me a holler on [tumblr @jyn-z-solo](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jyn-z-solo); I’d love to be pals!


End file.
